


The Madness of Error

by jolly



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Backstory, Bad Parenting, Pre-DWMA, Pre-Shibusen, the Grim Times, the eight warlords, the firstborn is always the experimental child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4582953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolly/pseuds/jolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What am I?"<br/>"You are... My son."<br/>It's hard to be born complete. There's no time nor room to grow.<br/>Chronicles of the Grim Times and the life of Asura.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Madness of Necessity

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise!! I'm actually Soul Eater trash. I rewatched the show and read the manga recently and I'm certifiably obsessed. Double surprise! I'm also a sucker for backstories. Sorry... is what I would say if I was sorry, but I'm training myself to be shameless about the things I like. So, not sorry. Enjoy!
> 
> Rated T+ for gore and more extreme violence that will happen in chapters a bit deeper in. Warnings will be made at the beginning of each chapter where applicable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah I'm finally posting the first chapter! How exciting! I don't think I'll be able to update regularly because of school, but I'll try to get the whole thing done eventually.  
> CONTENT WARNING: blood/gore and violence. Skip to the end notes for specific paragraphs to avoid and a non-graphic summary of those paragraphs.  
> Well, that's all I have to say for now. Enjoy!

Times were Grim. Death was beginning to realize that he alone would not be able to uphold the balance between life and death. Not with the witches interfering. He feared that he would fail to do his duty as the Reaper. He feared that the world would always be like this- chaotic, suffering, barely surviving. Death began to gather allies- friends who were as powerful as they were few- to help him in his work. Eibon, Excalibur, Vajra, the Black Mass. Still, they somehow were not enough. The battle against the witches' destruction was too bitter, and they were too few, and he was too afraid. Something had to be done. The witches had to be crushed quickly and completely.

"Death." Eibon's voice pulled the reaper out of his thoughts. He quickly pulled on his mask before turning to the sorcerer. It was unnecessary, the two had been friends since before Death had assumed his father's position. They knew each other's appearances well, but tradition was tradition, and Eibon, too, chose to hide his face.

"Yes, Eibon, what is it?"

"I found the witches. They've been quiet for a while, but became active again recently."

"In that case," Death paused to consider the situation. Were they ready to take on the witches? Would they ever be? "Let's attack tonight," he said decisively. "The sooner we get this over with the better."

Eibon's soul was impossible to read without concentrating, and Death respected him too much to try. "I'll tell the others," was all he said.

* * *

It had been a mistake, born of desperation. He'd made the decision too hastily and called it necessity. "I need to get it done. I want this behind me." Those had been his thoughts. He had been stupid, there was no other way to put it. The witches were too numerous, and too powerful. It had been a hard fight, and lasted until Death could no longer bear to watch his friends be pulverized. Eibon's breath was labored, his heavy robes stained with blood. Vajra's face was gory and scowling, and his hand stained Excalibur's hilt red. The Great Old One of Power should have come, even though he couldn't fight, maybe if he was here they would've had a chance. Death shook his head. Excuses and what-ifs would not help them now. Besides, he had no one to blame but himself. He was their leader, he was supposed to be responsible for them, but he dragged them into a battle they couldn't win. The pain shooting through his jaw alerted Death to how hard he was grinding his teeth.  _Mistake mistake mistakemistakemistake._ He shook his head. There would be time for self-loathing later.

He came to face Maba as they retreated. The Grim Reaper stood before the young Grand Witch, hoping that his comrades would be allowed to retreat. His face was stony beneath the mask, heart plagued by anger and sorrow and frustration. And he feared for the fate of his friends, and the fate of the world; he feared that he was not good enough, and that he would be defeated. The witch's red eyes gleamed from beneath her hat, and she cackled low in her throat.

"You fool," she spat maliciously. "Did you really think you could come to our door and defeat us?" Death was silent. He refused to reveal his shame. The Grand Witch sighed. "Perhaps one day you will. I'm not blind, Death, I know your power and respect it, as I imagine you do mine. But you're in a pitiful state. You're holding yourself back. If you don't hurry up and change, I'll crush you." She smiled, sharp and mirthful. "Your laws don't suit me, old man. It would please me to live in a world without you in it. However, I expect more of a fight than you put up today- if you could call this pathetic skirmish a fight. Otherwise it's no fun." Maba's eyebrows lowered then. "You behave like a human. It's shameful. Only a perfect god can succeed in this world."

Death's anger flared. He lunged for her furiously, ungracefully, but his hand connected with nothing and she was gone, leaving only the ghost of her laughter behind. Frustrated, he stomped into the snowy ground with a shout before flying after his retreating friends. A wide, deep crater was left behind, the only lasting sign of his weakness.

* * *

A strong fire burned in the hearth, illuminating the little company. The light made everything alive harsher, older, while the castle walls pretended to be warm. Death could hardly bear to look at the others, treating their wounds silently.  _My fault_. Eibon would be able to heal his broken ribs with magic, but Vajra's very human face would scar for sure. The jagged, ugly slash stretched from the bridge of his nose to the corner of his jaw, and it would forever remind him of the boy's mortality.  _My fault_. Vajra was a good warrior and a better person. And a child, at that, only fifteen. It was painful to see half his face wrapped in bandages that were bleeding through. His hand, too, though it had stopped bleeding.  _My fault my fault_. Death watched him as he stared into the fire, expression drawn.

The three looked up at the sound of footsteps and the door creaking open. "Ah, Excalibur," said Vajra with an honest smile. "You look good as new."

"Fool! No thanks to you." He came and sat by the fire, his pale skin painted in shades of orange by the light. 

Vajra chuckled, wincing. "I'm sorry, my friend. It was not my intention to bleed all over you."

The sword's upturned nose lifted an inch higher. "I suppose I can forgive you in this case. Appreciate it! My forgiveness is a rare gift bestowed upon the few who deserve it."

"My humble thanks." 

Death smiled ruefully behind his mask. Excalibur was conceited and obnoxious, but anybody who knew him well enough could tell when he was being sympathetic. He wished he could be so confident in himself as the strange little man. He wished he could face his friends now without regret.

"Fool!" Excalibur said, looking Death in the eyes, unfaltering. "If you have something to say, say it. There's no use brooding among your own companions."

"You're right, of course." Death made sure to keep his tone light. "I only think it's my place to apologize as well. The plan was not well thought through, and I led us into defeat. Next time I'll be more patient, and you won't get all bloody again."

Eibon spoke up for the first time since they returned. "No."

Death turned to him with an astonished, "What do you mean, 'no?' No what?"

He didn't move, only exhaled deeply. "No, it's not your place to apologize. You're the lord of death, the Grim Reaper. Practically a god. You cannot make mistakes."

"But I-"

"No, you misunderstand. You, as a flawed being, are capable of error. But nobody can know. No decision, no action you make can be displayed as being wrong, otherwise people will begin to doubt you. Which can only lead to the witches gaining influence." 

Death remained perfectly still. _Only a perfect god can succeed in this world._  

"And as for us," Eibon continued, more gently, "you're the leader. Even the Black Mass follows you, though we all consider each other equal. We made our decision by joining you- we'll go with you anywhere. I'm sure those of us who are mortal are quite willing to die in your service. Vajra?"

Vajra's smile now was less kind. It spoke more of determination. "Of course. Besides, I don't blame you. I'd want to go after the witches as soon as I found them, too. All we can do now is prepare for the next time we meet them."

"Yes," he answered quietly, looking at the floor but seeing Maba's red eyes. _You're in a pitiful state._ _I_ _'ll crush you._  He drifted out of the room without another word. Behind him, he could hear Excalibur calling the sorcerer a fool.

 

Death went to his room, locked the door, and shuttered the windows. After double-checking that there was no way for someone to enter or see inside, he removed his mask with a sigh of relief. He looked at his tired face in the mirror, so humanoid save for his golden eyes. _You're the lord of death, the Grim Reaper._ He didn't need a body, it was just convenient to have one most of the time. It made him feel more connected to the people he was supposed to keep in balance.  _You're acting like a human. It's shameful._  Death turned away from his reflection, folding himself up in his shadowy cloak. The room was dark, silent, and solitary, perfect for meditation. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the vast wavelength of his own soul. _  
_

It was like seeing himself naked, but more revealing. His parentage, past, and present; his personality, his feelings, his power. A part of it resembled that of his father, the previous Reaper but the rest was his own. His soul was wracked with tremors, almost overwhelmed with self-doubt and insecurity. It was unbecoming. It was weak.  _Practically a god_. Death's soul should be stronger than this.  _Only a perfect god can succeed in this world_. He followed the shivering waves back to their source- a small part of him that should not have such a great influence on the rest of his soul. Fear. He reached out to touch it, and it seemed to shy away from his fingers, but still he was able to press his palm against it-

 _Mistakemistakemistakemistake_ Death remembered everything he'd done wrong in his life. Allowed the witches to gain power. Rashly connected his third Line of Sanzu too early, knowing what it would cause. Trying to do his job alone. Trying to do his job with help. Making emotional connections, trying to relate to his friends. Going after the witches unprepared.  _You cannot make mistakes_.

He watched again as Eibon, his closest friend, was blown backwards into a building by the force of a witch's magic. There was a loud cracking sound as both his bones and the wall shattered on impact. Eibon stood shakily, wheezing, blood dripping from behind his white mask. Saw in slow motion how a spell, sharp as a blade, zoomed at Vajra, who spun away too late. It sliced through the skin of his nose, narrowly missed his eye, and cut a weeping red gash through the flesh of his cheek. Instinctively, he reached his hand toward the pain, only for his fingers to be grazed by the last of the spell. He cried out silently.  _Myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault._  

Maba, cackling from all directions. His mask- no, his father's mask- staring him down, colossally and eternally disappointed. They said together without speaking,  _weak, imperfect, incapable, useless, burden-_

Death pulled his hand away violently. He stared contemptuously at the trembling fear in his soul. It was poisoning him, and he had to be rid of it, but how? Something else caught his eye, the origin point of his soul's development. The piece his father had removed from himself in order to create him. An idea struck him, hesitant and budding.  _Only a perfect god can succeed_. Death had to become perfect. In order to become perfect, he had to remove fear from his soul. The only way to remove something from his soul was to create a fragment.

He'd never done it before, but his Reaper heritage guided his actions. He reached out again, carefully avoiding the distorted flashbacks, and pulled the fear away from his soul. It clung stubbornly, stretching his wavelength, before separating with a small popping noise. It closed around itself, seeking completeness, and an ancient instinct told Death to stop it, let it be incomplete, leave it room to grow. But Death didn't care about the fear now that it was out of him. He felt so much lighter, so much happier than he had been before. The fragment sealed itself into a complete soul and floated some distance away, barely within his notice. 

 

Death opened his eyes at the same time as the fragment. Surprised at first to find someone else in the room with him, Death just stared at the boy in front of him. He looked to be about Vajra's age, perhaps a few years younger, and entirely nude. The boy stared back, his eyes gold like a Reaper's.  _Of course_. Two lines of Sanzu connected in his hair, but the third was nonexistent. So this was a complete fragment. They continued to stare at each other, Death with open curiosity and the boy with increasing fear. The terror rolled off his soul in waves, like smoke. Death opened his mouth to speak to the boy - his fear, his fragment - but the child, too, opened his mouth, and drowned all other noise with an ear-shattering scream.

Shocked into stillness for a moment, Death could only be distantly astonished at the boy's vocal ability. A pounding on the door, faint though it was through the high-pitched shriek emitted from the fragment's mouth, brought Death back to reality. He lunged forward, hugging the child and enveloping him in his cloak. "Shh. Shh, I'm here. It's okay." The scream, already muffled by Death's body, quieted slightly. 

"Death! What's going on in there?" Eibon's voice penetrated the sound. 

Not wanting to cause the fragment any more distress, and knowing Eibon would be listening in on his thoughts at a time like this, Death said nothing.  _I'll explain later._

The quiet darkness of the cloak seemed to calm the fragment. He looked up at Death, wide-eyed. Death tried his best to smile serenely. "There, there. No need to be so afraid. Nothing here will harm you."

The boy looked around him at the room, mind full of questions. He looked up at the man embracing him, feeling a connection drawing them together. Like dead cells that used to be part of a larger organism could still be traced back to it, but could no longer be part of it. The fragment felt suddenly cold and alone, outside where he was once inside; he felt two souls where they were once one. He didn't understand, and that scared him. But the man said that there was nothing here to hurt him, so he asked about the one thing that frightened him the most.

"What am I?"

"You're... Hm." The man paused, thinking. "You're my son. Asura."

The word felt strange, not like other words. "What's Asura?"

The man laughed with his deep, gravelly voice. "It's you, that's your name."

Oh. The fragment stood bravely, going over to the mirror. He looked at himself, and collected everything he knew about himself.  _This is me_ , he thought, testing out the name in his mouth. "Asura."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHERE there are mentions of blood and/or violence: 
> 
> >1st paragraph after the 1st line break- blood and injury; not graphic (I think). Paragraph summary: Death realizes going after the witches was a mistake. They were totally outmatched. Describes vaguely the physical state of his friends. He blames himself. Continue reading at the next para (begins with "He came to face Maba").
> 
> >1st para. after 2nd line break- blood, injury; slightly graphic. Summary: Eibon, Vajra, & Death gather around the fireplace. Eibon and Vajra are treating their wounds. Eibon heals himself with magic. Vajra is worse for the wear, he's a human 15 y/o. His wounds are described, but not in too much detail. Death blames himself some more. Continue reading at the next para (begins with "The three looked up"). The word blood/bleeding is said after this, but nothing is described.
> 
> >4th para after Death goes to his room (previous para begins w/ "mistakemistakemistakemistake" and ends w/ "you cannot make mistakes")- blood, violence, injury; pretty graphic. Summary: describes in detail how Eibon and Vajra were injured. Death blames himself. Continue reading at the next para (begins with "Maba, cackling).
> 
> Writing this was pretty exhausting, so by the time I was finished I really did not have the energy to proofread it a final time. Please let me know about any spelling/grammar errors! Also, since this will probably happen every time, leave a comment if you're interested in being a "beta" for this story. Thank you!


	2. Madness of Learning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter I think. I describe Vajra's scar and how it affects his appearance, but I think that should be ok for most people. I won't pretend to know everybody's triggers though, so avoid paragraph 3 if that's something that bothers you.  
> Uhhh sorry for making stuff up. Not a lot of information exists about these characters, so I took my liberties.  
> Ugh also sorry if the dialogue is too long or clunky. I've always had a dialogue problem.  
> I made a Tumblr side blog for this particular pseudonym of mine! It's entirely fandom stuff. Plus there's an about page, so you can know things about me. [ Link! ](http://jollyfics.tumblr.com/)  
> Okay I'll shut up now. Enjoy!

Asura was afraid of everything at first. He spent the first week of his life huddled in a corner, wrapped in a blanket. Any sound made him whimper and quake. Eventually, with Vajra's help, Death was able to get Asura to move around the castle and even speak, though it was usually a short, squeaky whisper accompanied by averted eyes. Still, he avoided the other inhabitants of the castle as much as he could afford to. The sight of Death in his mask and grotesque claws had Asura backing away with wide eyes and hands over his ears to block out the sound of that voice, like rocks falling into an abyss. Eibon- seemingly formless, faceless, and voiceless- terrified Asura more than his father. Even more so when he did find it necessary to speak, for he seemed to know things that no person rightfully should. As for Excalibur, the sword barely looked like a person at all. He spoke despite not having a visible mouth, and he was loud and very rude. Asura avoided him at all costs. And most of all, he feared the Black Mass, who radiated raw power more than his peers. The fragment was already afraid of the dark, jumping at shadows. When one such shadow, with no object to cast it, turned its dripping liquid body to Asura and showed him his empty white eyes, the boy could never suppress a scream. 

Vajra was the only one who was able to approach him relatively peacefully, and comforted him during episodes of panic. Or rather, Vajra was the only one who cared to try. Eibon and the Black Mass seemed entirely disinterested with Death's fragment, leaving any decisions concerning him to his father. Excalibur would not bother talking to someone who wouldn't listen. And Death, now fearless, had an aversion to the personification of his fear. It was irrational, he knew. Asura could not be reabsorbed into his soul, as he was his own person now. He was slightly ashamed of himself for avoiding his son, but did not show it, and nobody said anything about it. Least of all Asura, who did not want to encounter his father in his traditional clothes, and knew that Death would not remove them.

Of course, Asura was not unafraid of the dark young warrior. Vajra's wound had healed quickly thanks to Eibon's help, though the scar it left was unavoidable. Every time Asura saw it, he felt a jolt run down his spine. It twisted Vajra's face in very subtle ways; one eyebrow always slightly lowered, one eye always a bit wider, nose and mouth curled perpetually in the barest grimace. Asura would only look at Vajra's face for seconds at a time, for the longer he looked, the more unnatural, distorted, and lopsided he appeared. The warrior was puzzled by Asura's darting eyes, but assumed it had to do with his friend's fearful nature and didn't ask. 

_Yes,_ Vajra assured himself,  _we are friends_. They had to be, didn't they? There was no one else their age they could spend time with. Death, Eibon, and the Black Mass were all Great Old Ones, and though Vajra felt honored to be one of their party, he knew he was laughably weak in comparison. He did not know much about Grim Reapers, but he could somehow sense that Asura was not quite like his father. Less godly.  _And if he is less godly, why, then he must be more human! And if he is more human, then he is more like me._ Vajra, lounging in Asura's bed, grinned at the boy who sat on the floor with his back against the wall. Asura looked at him warily for a moment before his eyes flicked back to the object in his hand. 

"What do you have there, my friend?" Vajra asked, adding the 'friend' in partly to assure himself of the state of their relationship, and partly to make sure Asura knew that he had a friend at all. 

Asura, however, focused on the invitation to speak which Vajra presented to him. His lips quivered. He did not want to speak. What if he said something wrong? But Vajra had come to sit next to him, and put an anchoring hand on his shoulder, and smiled. Suddenly Asura was more afraid of disappointing Vajra by remaining silent. Besides, he didn't think Vajra would ever be cruel to him... Right? 

"I f-f-found it. Outside E-" Asura took a shaky breath. Oh no no nonono! His voice sounded shrill and breathy. Not good! He had to talk like a normal person, like Vajra. "Outside E- E-"

"Calm down, it's alright." Vajra was used to this. It was good progress from not speaking at all, so he had no problem with how the words came out. "Keep going. Where did you find it? Outside where?"

Asura swallowed, took another breath. "Outside Eibon's workshop."

He shivered at the name, remembering the feeling of wandering cautiously in the castle at night. He'd felt Eibon's presence and froze in his tracks, breaking out into a sweat.  _What if he sees me what if he knows I'm here oh no oh no oh no oh no_. But Eibon had made no indication that he was aware of Asura. He'd hurried past the doorway as fast as he could, letting out a squeak when something crunched under his foot. Looking down, he saw that it was piece of paper covered in markings and crumpled into a ball. Asura picked it up impulsively, then immediately feared that Eibon would be angry with him and dashed back to his room, forgetting to drop the page. 

"Well," said Vajra, holding out his hand, "let's open it and see what it says."

Asura's eyes flew wide, horrified at the idea, and suspicious of Vajra's mischievous grin. "What!" He squeaked, "but what if someone finds out? I don't think Eibon wants anyone to see this. It's probably a mistake."  _  
_

He said the word 'mistake' so ominously that Vajra had to laugh. "So what? It's okay for people to make mistakes, you know. That's how they learn. And you can learn from other people's mistakes, too."

"Okay..." Asura looked at the ball of paper warily, the unsaid 'I find that hard to believe' clearly hanging in the air. 

"For example," Vajra began, taking on the air of one of his tutors from his life before. It seemed so long ago, he was surprised he still remembered. "From this page we can learn what Eibon is working on. We can learn his method of notation. We can learn what he did wrong. Who knows, maybe what he needs is fresh eyes. We could be the ones who help him complete the project. What do you say?"

"Okay," Asura repeated, and handed the paper to Vajra with shaking hands.

"Let's see, then." Vajra carefully unfolded the page and smoothed it out on the floor. They stared at the black scribbled markings in silence for a few seconds before Vajra stated simply, "I can't read this." A sigh of relief escaped Asura, who was worried that only he couldn't understand the writing. "I don't think this is a language I've ever even seen before," Vajra continued, turning the paper as if it would be legible from a different perspective. "Oh well. Hey," he added, not wanting his friend to withdraw now that they had finished what they were doing. "Wanna see my weapon collection?"

The fragment shook his head rapidly, curling away slightly.

Vajra smiled, pulling him to his feet. "Yes, you do. I won't let you get hurt, I promise. Okay?" Asura allowed himself to be led out of the room.

* * *

Eibon was always working on something. He  _had_ to always work on something. Building, learning, discovering, studying. It was in his nature- no, more than that. It was his madness. Eibon had studied madness when he was a child, which at the time consisted of asking everyone who knew something about it to tell him everything. He concluded that madness was a sort of single-minded obsession that consumed not only the affected, but also any other person within the range of their power. As far as his "research" showed, the only beings who naturally produced madness were Great Old Ones, such as himself and his best friend, the Young Reaper.

It was at about that time that Eibon began work on his notebook. At the beginning, all it was was a normal journal in which he recorded all the new things he learned and discovered. As he grew older, he began to tweak the book itself, making it into something he himself barely understood and definitely was unable to explain. He started to write on normal paper again, putting only completed notes into the Book. It would contain all the knowledge in the world eventually. The idea sounded impossible, but Eibon refused to give up on it. His was the Madness of Knowledge. He had to know everything, he  _had_ to. Sometimes this need took over him so that he could do nothing else but study-explore-discover-learn-know _knowKNOW_. It would not allow him to forget anything he had thought of, no matter how sinister or immoral the thing. He built the moral manipulation machine for that reason, though he had yet to use it. Usually he could control the madness, use it as motivation for all his projects. He wouldn't use the machine unless he had to. _  
_

Currently, Eibon was searching for an efficient way to collect souls. A tool, or some kind of machine that would make Death's job easier for him, and he could focus on the witches instead. Death had helped Eibon countless times, humoring his mad needs and even assisting him in his experiments from time to time. It was the least he could do at this point. So he stayed up several nights in a row, thinking of a hundred ideas at once, switching between notebooks which were arranged before him on the table and barely writing down one thing before thinking of something else. But even with all this brainstorming, Eibon was coming up empty-handed. None of these things were practical, half of them were unstable, and he was pretty sure that at least ten required the laws of physics to be broken. 

"Humans haven't even discovered the laws of physics and I'm already breaking them," Eibon muttered to himself. Sometimes he wanted to help mankind along by telling them things they were taking too long to understand, but Death forbade it.

"You don't have the power to teach them all," Death had said.

Eibon did not accept this as a good reason. "I can ask the Black Mass-"

"Absolutely not. The Black Mass is not to use his madness to help us, it's overwhelming. You experienced it yourself. Anyway, it would be wrong to teach them what you know."

"But I teach Vajra many things, and you never say anything about it," he had argued.

"Fool!" Excalibur had interjected, "Vajra is not a normal human and you know that. Besides, he is only one human, not all of them."

"You must let my people learn for themselves," Vajra had added sagely. "Isn't that the point? To learn?"

Eibon couldn't argue with that. 

He frowned at the memory but never paused in his frantic notations. If he couldn't help by teaching them, he could at least help keep them safe. Well, that's what he told Death, even though that wasn't exactly his incentive. But he had a feeling that the others would appreciate the sentiment more than "I thought of building something like this, so now I have to." It would be helpful in the end, so he wasn't exactly lying. Two birds with one stone, he supposed. As soon as he could figure out how to do it.


	3. Madness of Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. Oh my god. Has it been two weeks yet? Three? I'm so sorry! What with school starting and all I've been pretty stressed out, and on top of that I had some severe writer's block. I hope this passes soon :/  
> Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> [Oh, and remember I have a tumblr? ](http://jollyfics.tumblr.com)

Death was used to Eibon's occasional obsessions. It was a personal quirk, in his opinion, and Eibon just needed to be supported until the episode was over. There were other times though, rarely, when Eibon would hit a wall. The ideas stopped flowing and he just kept coming back to the same dead ends. He would get incredibly depressed at these times, and what he needed was a distraction. That was how Death found him, sitting incredibly still and staring at a menagerie of notebooks arranged helter-skelter on his desk. The room was unnaturally silent, not even outside sounds found their way in. It was oppressive. Lonely. Death gave him something to do. 

They walked slowly, because Excalibur could not walk fast. The northern landscape was vast and white and soft, sharpened by whistling gales. Crunching footsteps seemed out of place in the aftermath of the blizzard, marking snow that was meant to be smooth and untouched. Death had sent the two of them out here to find and collect some human souls that had been corrupted by the witches' influence. Supposedly. Excalibur, of course, felt the need to explain the situation.

"Fool! We wouldn't be out in this horrific weather if you hadn't been sulking over your studies again."

Eibon suppressed a sigh. "You knew we would be coming here. You could have declined the assignment if you hate this climate so much."

"Fool!" Excalibur's cane smacked against Eibon's mask. "I love this weather. Never make assumptions about my preferences." 

Eibon sighed but said nothing. 

* * *

Asura huddled in his usual corner, watching Vajra pace back and forth across the room. He seemed agitated, and it was making Asura nervous. Vajra had said that if something was bothering him, he should say so, but Asura wasn't sure it was a good idea in this case. Suddenly, as if he'd just remembered that Asura was there, Vajra turned to look at him. There was a heartstopping moment before Vajra thought to smile. Asura exhaled shakily.

"What's wrong?" He asked softly.

Vajra puffed out his cheeks and sat on the bed. "Excalibur and Eibon are gone, without me, and Death won't tell me why." He sighed. "I mean, usually I go with Excalibur because we're the only two who can't really work alone. But I'm more bothered by the fact that they probably left me here because of this." He touched his scar gingerly. 

Asura felt his heart pounding. He didn't like it when Vajra was upset. What did Vajra do when he was scared? "Um. H-how can I help?"

"I don't know. Let's do something to distract me."

They decided to go make some food. Or rather, Vajra decided to teach Asura how to make food. Asura never needed to know, being a reaper and having no need to eat. But Vajra insisted that it was a necessary thing, to know how to prepare food. Vajra wasn't the only human in the world, after all. Asura might find himself entertaining guests someday.

He sat patiently and watched as Vajra lit a fire in the oven and gathered ingredients from the kitchen. Flour, sugar, a jug of water. Several little vials that Asura couldn't identify. Eggs and butter from a cupboard which Eibon had enchanted to keep its contents cool. A bunch of spoons and bowls and measuring cups. Asura found the work fascinating, the way Vajra so expertly measured out the sugar and the butter, how cleanly he cracked the eggs. 

"I'm making a cake," Vajra clarified as he continued to work. "It's a simple one, since I can't remember complicated recipes off the top of my head. Don't know who taught me to make cake like this. It definitely wasn't someone back home. Do you want to help me? Here, mix this," he said when Asura shrugged, placing the big bowl and spoon in front of him. He mixed absently, noting with annoyance that it was getting increasingly difficult, while Vajra spread butter on a rectangular pan with his calloused fingers. When it got really tough, Asura turned his eyes back to the bowl. He grabbed it with one arm and mixed with the other, straining silently. 

Now that his face was so close to the bowl, it actually smelled really good. He wondered what it would taste like. He turned to Vajra. Was he allowed to taste this? Was it safe to eat? Would Vajra be upset with him for eating it?

Vajra looked up. "What is it? Are you done mixing?" Asura nodded. "Great! Mm, I'll just pour it into the pan then."

Asura's face fell. No tasting then. 

Vajra noticed. "Oh? Why the long face, friend?"

"It uh, smells good."

"Indeed it does," Vajra smiled. "Do you want to try some?"

Asura's eyes widened. He nodded vigorously.

Vajra laughed as he handed over the spoon and carefully pushed the cake into the oven. "You don't have to be afraid to ask me for things, you know," he said, closing the oven door. "I'll be glad to help you get anything you need or want. You're my friend, after all."

Asura nodded, happily licking the spoon. 

* * *

 The kishin egg was ugly and deformed, as they usually were. It hadn't noticed them yet, and Eibon wanted to keep it that way. Killing it stealthily would be much easier than a head-on fight, but Excalibur had other ideas.

"Fool!" He pointed his cane at the humanoid creature. "Consuming innocent souls is an evil act that must be punished. I am here to take your soul!"

The thing didn't reply, only grinned, exposing long, sharp teeth. Eibon felt his lip curl at the slobbery mess that was its mouth. At least it would be dead soon. Eibon took a step forward, beginning to form a spell in his hand. The kishin egg turned its bloodshot, yellow eyes to him. It rose a little higher on its legs, as if interested to see him better. Eibon took another step and the creature pounced, snow flying from its feet. Eibon didn't have a chance to release the spell before it landed on him, pushing him to the ground. The cold entered beneath his layered robes and he shivered, shooting his magic blindly into the pre-kishin. It went spinning through the air and landed a few yards away, but already it was beginning to stand again. He yelled for Excalibur to transform. 

As the sword arced toward him, he vaguely wondered if it would be different than using a normal weapon. Eibon had never used Excalibur before, and he wasn't all that fond of blades in general- but what was that feeling? As soon as he caught Excalibur, it was like some electric connection formed between them. His soul wavelength was amplified to incredible strength, and Excalibur seemed to be drawing on that power to increase his own. Amazing- this could be just what he'd been looking for!

The pre-kishin jumped ino the air, a snarling, fanged spring. Eibon raised Excalibur and killed it in a single slash. What an ability! If he could put it in humans, make more weapons like this... Excalibur transformed out of his hands- too soon- and waddled over to eat the kishin-egg's soul. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohoho, that's right, Eibon just got the idea for demon weapons! Sorry if this chapter is a bit boring, it's important for the plot! I promise the story will get more exciting soon!


	4. Madness of Reaching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's been long enough, don't you?  
> Gosh, I wish I had this story under control. At least things are finally starting to happen.

Death leaned over Eibon's shoulder, watching him add the final edits to his theory. It was an interesting model, Death had to admit. But to actually carry out such an experiment would be incredibly inhumane. The room was entirely silent save for the skritching of Eibon's quill pen on the pages of the journal- a contemplative silence, a concentrated silence. When he finished, Eibon carefully placed the quill back in its inkwell and sighed. The two friends stared together at the extensive illustrations and descriptive instructions drying on the parchment leaves. Seeing it done after six weeks of work was at once satisfying and infuriating. 

Behind his bone mask, Death licked his lips. "You know you can never create this weapon." He spoke slowly and deliberately, though the question still lingered.  _You can't really do this. You won't. Will you?_

Eibon chuckled breathily, defeated. "I know," a pause. "Futile genius is the worst thing there is."

"Worse than ignorance?"

The sorcerer sat back in his chair, folding his arms under his cloaks. "Almost."

They laughed for a while, and then silence fell upon them again. Death stepped away from the desk, keeping his eyes on Eibon.

"You must put this away," he said. "Hide it. There are witches who would dare do such things."

Eibon shut the book carefully. "Yes," he replied softly, and tucked it into his cloak.

* * *

In the kitchen with Vajra again, Asura sat in the corner wrapped in scarves, idly watching a spider scurry across the wall. A few weeks ago, Asura had mentioned his discomfort at people seeing him all the time. Vajra had suggested he take example from Death or Eibon, who hide themselves completely- and then he had convinced Excalibur to teach Asura to knit. Learning had been a struggle, mostly because Excalibur did more lecturing about his past experiences than teaching. But the fragment had taken to the hobby immediately anyway, knitting as often as he could and wrapping himself in layers and layers of wool. He was knitting there in the kitchen, too, listening to Vajra tell legends and war stories. Sometimes it was hard to tell which Vajra had experienced and which were only fairy tales. It filled Asura with a sick sort of exhiliration, feeling fear that wasn't from anything real that could hurt him. He loved stories, especially the ones about his father's great power. It made him feel safe. 

Asura wondered whether he would ever be able to do those things. Vajra smiled and told him he probably could.

"Would you teach me?"

Vajra looked up, beaming. "Gladly, my friend! I don't know if I can help you with Reaper magics, but I'll share with you what I do know."

Asura snuggled deeper into his tangle of yarn and hid his smile.

* * *

It was in the dark and silent night that the Black Mass approached Vajra. The boy was not asleep, but lying with his eyes closed and thinking. A sort of low heaviness settled over the room and his eyes snapped open, hand to the blade concealed under his blankets. He saw nothing in the dim light of the moon, but Vajra knew not to trust his eyes. His weak, human eyes. Vajra willed his heart to slow. 

"I know you're there," he said as calmly as he could. "Make yourself known."

"Be calm, boy. You know me," came the deep and muddy voice of the Black Mass.

Vajra sat up, releasing his weapon. Even if the Mass meant to harm him, a blade would make no difference. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he began to see the dripping, shapeless form of the Mass, as well as his round, white eyes. He seemed to suck the heat from the air, and Vajra thought he heard the ink on his desk freezing. He shivered, pulling his stiffening blankets around him.

The Black Mass made a humming noise, as if having realized that being in the presence of a mortal was not the best idea. "I'll be brief, then. You must be careful of the fragment. He is complete- made entirely of one thing. His madness will consume him, because his madness is all there is to him."

Vajra frowned and shook his head. Asura was growing, changing. He needed a teacher, and a friend, and Vajra wanted to be those things for him. He wouldn't let Asura's fear take over. He would make Asura feel safe, and reassure him when he was afraid. Vajra would save him.

"I am only warning you. Humans are weak fools. You have no place meddling in madness or magic."

When he was alone again, and the warmth returned to his room, Vajra traced the rough tissue of his scar. There would be many more before he died. Madness and magic was exactly where he belonged.

* * *

Somewhere far away, a spider scuttled back to its web. _It's ready_ , whispered the spider, _and I know where to find it._  It was only a matter of time before she could get her hands on the book, and then she would show them he true power of a witch. Only a matter of time before she had power over men and witches and gods. A wicked, white-toothed smile flashed in the darkness. 


	5. Madness of Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christ, it's been so long. You have my apologies for that.  
> Oop things are really moving along now! I'm afraid that means there's trouble ahead. After all, we do know how the story ends...  
> Sorry again for the delay, school's an S.O.B. But apparently writer's block's worst enemy is persistence.  
> Enjoy! :)

Over the next few months, Asura steadily improved at everything. Though he was still insecure, he spoke more and more, feeling rewarded by how happy it made Vajra. He even dared to make a snarky comment to Excalibur once, which earned him a cane to the head and the image of his best friend bursting with laughter, mouth wide and chin tilted up. They trained together in Vajra's weapons room - it was the only weapons room, but nobody else had a use for it, so it was silently accepted as Vajra's - spending hours at a time sharpening blades, hitting targets, and sparring. They always worked up a good sweat, feeling light and high on exhaustion by the end of it. Asura and Vajra were well matched, often calling a stalemate rather than one of them winning. It became clear to Vajra, however, that this was only because he had been trained since he could walk. Asura outmatched him in raw skill; his eyesight was better, his reflexes faster, his body stronger. No matter how much he wanted to forget that they were different, that Asura was, for all intents and purposes, the son of a god, their training sessions made it impossible. A sinister voice inside of him regretted ever agreeing to teach his friend, but he never payed it much mind. That's what Asura was, after all. His friend. And friends do not deny each other happiness for petty reasons like  _jealousy_. 

After sparring the two would often sit down in one of their beds to read. It began with Vajra pulling out some old volumes and dusting them off, running his finger under each word and reading slowly so Asura could follow along. Asura quickly picked up literacy and soon he was choosing books from Vajra's collection and reading them on his own. But still, they preferred to do it in each other's company, especially for all the times that Asura quietly asked what certain words meant.

But Asura's scarves were the most impressive of all. Where they were sloppy and short before, they now became more like tapestries. He knew he could knit other, possibly more useful things, but he preferred to stick with what he knew. Long, thick, and wide, they were defined by matched colors and fascinating, intricate patterns. Some of the larger ones even told short stories through images, ranging from war to love to silly jokes. He wore many of them at a time, slowly hiding more and more of his figure. Vajra received just as many as gifts, and his room became decorated with them. He hung them on every surface, having no better place to keep them, and anyway they made his space much more hospitable. At Vajra's encouragement, Asura hesitantly made scarves for the other tenants in the castle. Excalibur got a relatively short and thin white scarf with a minimalist image of a sword in gray on each end. Eibon's was a yard and a half of dull, dark colors to match the drapery he called robes. The Black Mass- and Asura was not sure about this, as he didn't exactly have a body, but Vajra insisted- found himself the owner of what could only be described as a very soft, very large rug. And Death opened his door one day to find, folded up neatly, a scarf patterned with motifs of his image. Black transitioned to white in sharp angles like his claws or his cloak, and his mask repeated across the width in harsh lines. Asura never saw any of them wear the scarves. That thought made his gut wrench with fear, fear of disappointing them, but he was used to that already. It appeared that only Vajra saw him as worth spending time with. Part of him was okay with that.

* * *

The Gorgon Sisters were always a deviant trio. They did most everything together, shared plots and potions and spells. If they wanted to be found, you would find them all at once, sporting matching sinister smiles. However, for all that they stuck together like parasites to a host, they had no friends among the coven nor among themselves. They disagreed with each other often, but with the other witches even more. Nobody trusted them, they were the subject of "beware"s and dark rumors. The Gorgon Sisters liked it this way. 

Unofficially, they had accepted Arachne as their leader. She was the oldest sister, after all, she was more knowledgeable, and so was better at scheming. Medusa, the middle child, felt that she was too good to follow her sister forever. Still, she believed that it was preferable to stay by her side for the time being. To learn more. Shaula, however, was born a follower. She was good at hiding it, but she was perfectly content to go along with her sisters' plans, whatever they might be. Shaula was also the Gorgons' anchor to the other witches, as Arachne had no interest in cooperating with them and Medusa felt no need to. The both of them felt that sometime's Shaula's loyalty to the other witches was concerning, but so far she had always chosen her sisters over their more distant kin. Still, she was the cautious sort.

"Are you sure about this, Arachne? Stealing from Death directly is probably the most dangerous thing you've done."

"I'm not stealing from death," Arachne said matter-of-factly. "I'm merely borrowing from his friend. And it won't be me doing it, anyway."

Shaula blanched. "You- you aren't sending  _me_ to get it, are you?"

Medusa burst into laughter from her perch in the ceiling beams. "Don't be ridiculous! Do you really think dear old Arachne would ever trust either of us with such a task?"

Arachne's lips curled into a little smile that didn't touch her eyes. "Mosquito will retrieve it for me. But you two will be involved. As the distraction."

Medusa turned her body so that she hung by her legs from the beam. "Oh, that's my favorite part!" She swung her arms at the youngest sister. "Did you hear that? You might actually get to fight them up close. How exciting!"

Shaula shuddered. She had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

Vajra decided that Asura should start learning some basic rune magic. Not the spells of witches or the manipulations of sorcerers like Eibon, but simple symbols and circles that might prove useful weapons. It was a complicated and dangerous art that had taken Vajra years to understand and even longer to master. Even now his runes weren't perfect, but he knew enough to get Asura started. He didn't doubt that Asura would catch up relatively quick, which would give the young fragment a basis for reaper magic. Vajra so wanted Death to teach Asura reaper magic. It might fortify his self-confidence, besides the bond it would form between father and son. Vajra wasn't blind; he could see that Death went to great lengths to avoid Asura. The worst part was that it appeared to be entirely unjustified. Before Asura, Death was still frightening, but he was also kind. He would never actively avoid anyone. Especially a child. Especially his own _son_. 

Vajra shook his head, pounding a fist into the wall. It wouldn't do to be bitter. Harboring a grudge against the leader of his company could prove fatal in times of battle. 

"Vajra?" The weak little voice of his friend brought him back to the present.

"Yes, I'm fine. Right, so this is a shield rune..." He knelt beside Asura to help him draw the figures. As the last line connected, the rune flew off the floor like something escaped from a cage. A barrier floated before the two of them, a semi-visible screen of spinning circles. Vajra glanced proudly at the boy beside him. Peeking out from between layers of scarves, Asura's eyes were wide and glinting with awe.

"This is just the beginning, my friend," Vajra said. Asura turned to him, blinking fast, and wrapped his arms around Vajra in the tightest hug he had ever received. Vajra hugged him back, completing the thought in his mind:  _You'll get better at this, better than even me. And when we finally convince your father to teach you, you will be able to do so much more._


	6. Madness of Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend it hasn't been four months (I'm very sorry!! I hope someone is still interested in reading this lol. I haven't dropped the story I promise)...  
> The good news is that chapter 7 might be out soon- relatively. Maybe.  
> Enjoy!

Vajra awoke at a painful jab to his ribs. He had his knife in hand in a second, prepared to defend himself, but lowered the weapon when he saw it was only Excalibur standing over him. The Holy Sword looked down his long curved nose at the human boy, leaning on his white cane. Vajra's brow wrinkled, seeing the darkness in the window. What time was it? And why was there such a din coming down the corridor? He didn't have a chance to ask before the cane came swinging dangerously close to his face. Vajra already had an ugly scar across his nose and that was quite enough for him, thank you very much. 

"Get up, fool!" The sword exclaimed. "Prepare for battle!"

Vajra wasted no time in complying, stripping off his nightclothes before he was even out of bed. His only complaint at the frigid air was a breath hissed out through his teeth. "What's going on?" He asked, pulling an undershirt over his head. Vajra considered context to the battle an important part of preparation. 

"Those dastardly, villainous Gorgon Sisters. They're attacking our beautiful city. They must be stopped by someone, and that someone is undoubtedly me. Unfortunately, I cannot fight on my own, so I need a skilled warrior. You have proved yourself worthy of wielding me in the past. Now be hasty, or we shall be late!"

Rolling his eyes fondly, Vajra tied the drawstring of his pants and shimmied into his chain-mail. It almost fit him, having been made for an adult body. "Go on ahead with the others," he recommended. "I'll join you as soon as I'm ready."

"Fool! A great warrior is never late for battle! But very well." The patter of Excalibur's small feet grew faint. Vajra quickly donned a thick leather vest, cinching it tight with a belt and scabbard. He sheathed a few more weapons and pulled on his boots, but there was one more thing he wanted to do before they left. Vajra cautiously leaned out his bedroom door. The others could be heard from the direction of the castle's entrance, but there was nobody in the hallway to see him sprint in the other direction. 

 

Asura was huddled in the corner of his bedroom, body hidden entirely by blankets and scarves so that it took Vajra a second to find him. The young reaper was whimpering in fear, and even screamed when Vajra pulled a scarf away from his face. The sight of his friend calmed him just enough to ask what was happening in a barely-audible whisper. Vajra repeated what Excalibur had told him about the situation. This information only seemed to augment Asura's terror. He wrapped the scarf tighter around himself, clutching a pair of knitting needles as if they were knives. Vajra put a hand on his friend's shoulder, smiling gently. 

"It's okay to feel fear, Asura," he said, remembering the words of one of his teachers. "Fear can help us survive sometimes. But we can't let fear be our master, it's just a feeling. You're a person." Asura cracked open an eye. Encouraged by this, Vajra continued, "One way to overcome your fear is to face it and see it's not as bad as you think." He offered his hand for the other boy to take. "I want you to come with me."

Asura's eyes blew wide open. He scrambled back, hugging his arms around himself. "Me?"

Vajra reminded him of all the training they'd done, all the progress they'd made. What had it been for, if not to use in a fight against witches? Asura was ready, he insisted, and they could protect each other. He never withdrew his hand. Asura slowly grasped it with his own clammy one and allowed Vajra to draw him to his feet. Together, they dashed to meet the others at the castle's wide, wooden doors.

 

"Absolutely not." The dim candlelight from the wall sconces cast stark shadows across Death's stern and expressionless mask. He did not look like someone to be arguing with right now, but Vajra refused to stand down.

"But why? I've been training him myself! He already had great skill and power, and even more potential. He will be useful in the battle against the Gorgons, I swear on my life. You won't regret bringing him along. It will be good for all of us, especially him. Besides, how could you deny him the opportunity to fight beside you? He's your son!"

Vajra thought for a moment that Death had flinched, but surely that was impossible. 

"I don't have time for this," the Grim Reaper said. "He's not coming. Let's go." He turned to leave, clearly expecting the boy to follow.

Vajra couldn't believe his ears. He had made a solid argument in Asura's favor, but Death shut it down without even a counter-argument. He didn't understand. The injustice burned in his heart, and he knew he would never get over this if he let it go. "I will not go without Asura!" Vajra cried. 

Death turned, and there was a heavy silence. "Fine," the reaper finally said. "Then both of you will stay here. Eibon will wield Excalibur. We'll be back soon." The door shut behind him with an echoing slam, and the two boys were left alone in the castle. 

Despite his skin sizzling with anger, Vajra gave Asura a half smile. He could see that his rage was upsetting his friend, and he didn't want that. But the smile didn't seem to reassure Asura this time. He looked away, huddling down into his clothes. He mumbled something that Vajra couldn't hear.

"You should have gone without me," Asura repeated at Vajra's request. "I know how much you wanted to fight," he went on, tears welling in his golden eyes. "But now you're stuck here again, with me..."

Eyes widening, Vajra pulled the reaper into a hug. "Oh, Asura, no. It's okay, please don't cry. We'll watch the castle while they're gone, just in case someone takes the opportunity to attack. Yeah?"

Sniffling, Asura nodded into his shoulder. Vajra grinned, and led him toward the kitchen to make breakfast.


	7. Madness of Theft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, that was... pretty fast... Okay, so maybe I got a little distracted. But it's only been one month! And this is probably the longest chapter so far.  
> I'll say the rest at the end to avoid spoiling the chapter.  
> Enjoy!  
> P.S. Evidently this story is one year old now! :> Not sure if that's a milestone or proof of how slow I update...

Eibon was not particularly pleased to be wielding Excalibur again, especially after his model for replicating the phenomenon that was the Holy Sword was deemed nonviable. On the one hand, the sorcerer knew that to actualize the experiment was _unethical_ \- not that ethics were much of a factor in Eibon's pursuit of knowledge. On the other hand, it always hurt to have his work rejected. He had spent many long nights awake completing the theory, only to have it dismissed. But it was a decision between testing his hypothesis and remaining trustworthy in the eyes of Death, his leader and closest friend. It was not even a decision. Still, he remained bitter about having to use the sword he so admired. Let alone that the weapon got in the way of his spellcasting frustratingly often. 

Death himself wasn't ecstatic about the last-minute partnership, but for different reasons. Vajra's little rebellion at the castle did not sit well with the Grim Reaper. The boy was a great fighter, even discounting his age. He went up against witches and kishin-eggs with as much success as any of them; surely no other human could compete with his skill. But he was at that age, Death recalled, where children start to push at the boundaries of authority. Although, that wasn't entirely accurate. Vajra had never been one to back down when his beliefs were being challenged. He always stood firm and held his ground if he was certain he knew the right thing to do. And humans, so much more affected by everything that happened around them, had a curious knack for knowing what 'the right thing to do' was.

Yet despite all that Death trusted Vajra, he couldn't do battle with the Gorgons knowing that the fragment was there, fighting beside him. He didn't doubt Vajra's skill as a teacher or Asura's quick progress. In fact, it was that progress that made Death nervous. Asura showed all the signs of being a true reaper, except that he wasn't. At first, Death had payed no mind to the fact that Asura was a complete fragment of the fear in his soul. What he had cared about was purging himself of the nuisance, and good riddance. Now, he had to see the little bundle of his fear walk around in his castle all the time. He had to look his fear in the eyes and know that he no longer had any control over it. Asura had been a mistake, Death had eventually realized. There was something  _wrong_ about Asura's soul. And Death wasn't afraid of him- he couldn't possibly be- but he disliked the idea, very, very much. He didn't want to think how the fragment felt about  _himself,_ that being the case. 

Right now was not the time to dwell on these things, however. During the time it had taken the group to reach the city, the Eastern Quarter had been reduced to rubble. Townspeople ran screaming from the fires that burned in their homes, carrying their children and as much property as they could hold. As the sound of their wails grew fainter in the distance, all Death could hear was the hungry crackling of flames. He narrowed his eyes against the light of the flames and saw, there in the night-dark sky, the unmistakable silhouette of witches. They hovered on brooms, low over the rooftops, watching the mayhem of their own making ensue below. One of them sat poised and straight on the broomstick, while the other had her feet hooked over the handle and swung upside-down.

Only two of the three sisters. Something wasn't right.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't Lord Death and friends." The voice belonged to Medusa Gorgon, most likely the one hanging upside-down. It was hard to see in the strange lighting. The hanging form dropped to the ground with a graceful flip, sweeping her arms in a mocking bow as she landed. Death immediately sent a shock wave blast at her, but she danced out of the way with a small chuckle. "Now, now, Grim Reaper, play nice. We've been waiting for you here for such a long time. Haven't we, sister?"

Death banished from his mind all the questions that were rising. He focused instead on the second silhouette, leaping down from her broom in a flutter of skirts and shimmering hair. "Yes, indeed. It's very rude to make us wait. We are your guests, after all." 

Shaula Gorgon, the youngest sister.

"Where is Arachne?" Death demanded. He knew the oldest sister to be the leader of the trio, but if she was elsewhere...

Shaula tutted. "Such bad manners. What do you say, sister, shall we teach them to behave?"

"Certainly." Medusa grinned, all sharp, white teeth. Something twitched, slithered, flashed between her lips. A snakelike spark that was gone in an instant. "It would be my pleasure."

Eibon and Death leapt out of the way of her vector arrow spell. Eibon launched himself back at the witch, Excalibur slicing through the air in a flash of silver. But Medusa was gone already, laughing from her perch on a burning roof. 

* * *

The boys had settled into the cushions by the fireplace to read. Vajra had brought some weapons with them, but he could tell that Asura hadn't been convinced that everything was okay. Vajra bit his lip, feeling guilty himself. Asura sat practically buried in a pile of scarves, only his golden eyes were visible between the woolen garments and his mess of dark hair. Vajra wanted to teach him that it was okay to take risks and fail, that being brave and losing is just a part of life. The problem was that he didn't know how, and he worried that Asura would come away from the experience with the wrong lesson. 

He opened his mouth to speak, not exactly sure what it was he should say, but was interrupted by a loud noise from somewhere in the building. Vajra instantly had a sword in his hand. He saw Asura's head jerk up before retreating again, even deeper inside his scarves than before.

"Come on," he said, "we said we'd protect the castle, right? Let's see what it is."

Asura followed a few steps behind him as they stalked the halls, listening for any sound besides their own footsteps. They had each taken a sword from Vajra's pile, and Asura was holding his out in front of him like a shield more than a blade. He was afraid, Vajra sighed. His fear was always stronger than the training Vajra had provided. Maybe one day, if they kept trying and getting stronger, that would change. 

There was a rustling sound coming from inside Eibon's bedroom. On the one hand, that wasn't entirely unusual. On the other hand, it couldn't hurt to check. Vajra moved to turn the handle, but the door swung open by itself. 

The woman standing on the other side looked just as surprised as they were. Which was ridiculous, because they lived here, and she definitely did not. Unless she expected the castle to be empty. Vajra narrowed his eyes. Yes, the black cobweb-themed dress was a pretty good hint.

Asura trembled behind him, radiating terror. Vajra stepped forward, pointing his sword at the witch. "What are you doing here, Arachne?'

Red lips curled into an ironic smile. "Oh, just collecting some things." She chuckled softly, sweeping long, black hair out of her face. "Now, I really must be going, however I can't have you telling anyone I was here. So I'm afraid you'll need to die now."

Vajra's eyes widened as she shot a spell toward them. But suddenly Asura was in front of him, raising a shield with the circle magic Vajra had taught him. His chest swelled. Asura looked back at him, a silent question in his wide eyes. Vajra smiled wide and nodded, giving his friend the approval he needed.

"Wait a moment." Arachne narrowed her eyes at them. "You're a reaper. Death's son?" Asura faltered at her identification. The shield stuttered and fell away. Vajra felt suddenly naked under the witch's appraising eyes. "And a human. Why-" Arachne's eyes lit up, apparently having come to some realization. "Why, that's perfect! I can hardly believe my fortune."

Arachne raised her hand, beginning to mutter another spell. Vajra urgently called out to Asura, hoping he could re-establish his shield in time. Asura stumbled forward, energy sparking around him, but his voice shook. Before he could move, the weapon was knocked from Vajra's hand by Arachne' magic. He hissed and reached for it again, but his fingers were slick with blood-  _just like last time-_  Vajra tried to focus, but everything seemed to be happening in short bursts that his mind couldn't follow. Arachne prepared her magic. Asura's shield went up. That was supposed to be a good thing, so why was he so full of dread?

Asura's shield was up, but Vajra was not behind it. Asura was calling him, pleading with him to take two steps backward and be safe, but Vajra couldn't move.  _Just like last time. Just like last time._ His scar throbbed. His hand stung. Something was wrapping around him, delicate and fine and stronger than steel. Asura needed him to fight, but he just felt so heavy...

He heard Arachne's voice again, much closer than before. She said something about being satisfied. Sounded happy. Vajra lifted his head with difficulty. He mustered his strength, and met Asura's trembling, tearful gaze. 

"My friend- Don't worry- You aren't to blame."

He kept their eyes locked as something carried him away. Sleep hovered at the edges of his mind, but he didn't dare give in yet. Foggily, Vajra wondered what witches did with human captives. Whether Death would come for him. What would become of Asura, now that he was alone. He hoped they would be reunited soon. If he could only survive Arachne, Vajra swore he would find Asura again. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.

* * *

Death returned to an empty castle. Empty all but for a huddled figure at the end of the bedroom hallway, wrapped in cloth, shivering. Asura's aura of fear surrounded him like a cloud. Even Death could feel its effects, doubts growing in his mind and setting him on edge. He looked to Eibon, who nodded grimly. Madness. They had suspected before, but now it was certain. Asura had one, just like any reaper would. The madness of fear. 

Asura mumbled to himself, staring at nothing from inside his burrow of scarves. Death leaned closer to hear him.

_Vajra is gone she took him I'm alone I'm scared what do I do she took Vajra I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared I'm-_

Death grasped his son's shoulder roughly. "Who took Vajra? Where? What happened, tell me!"

Asura's eyes flicked to his father. When he whispered the name it was barely audible. Death rose quickly, to do something, he wasn't quite sure what. But there was a small hand with a tight grip on his cloak that kept him from leaving. He looked down, surprised to find golden eyes burning with determination.

"Teach me," Asura said, loud and clear. "I want to learn how to be strong like you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh... I hate writing fight scenes... Somehow I always end up mostly avoiding them haha  
> Anyway.  
> So this is clearly a big turning point in the story. There's going to be some more graphic violence after this. I'll put warnings at the beginning of each chapter, but I don't know if the gory stuff will be short enough to skip over.  
> Tbh I'm proud of myself for getting this far, I usually give up before I get to the big conflict. Thanks to all the readers for supporting me and this story, I couldn't have done it without you! I hope you like the rest of the story (no matter how bad things will get... Or how long it takes me to write it lol)!  
> -Jolly


	8. Madness of Capture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-ho all, I have some news. Unfortunately, due to my circumstances, I will have _even less_ free time to write for the foreseeable future. I hope to put more effort into getting chapters done to compensate, but that may very well be easier said than done. Very very sorry!! This story (and any others, if you happen to be reading them) is by no means abandoned. Please continue to be patient with me as you have so graciously been doing thus far, and enjoy this chapter! :)

Vajra's disorientation was immediate. A residual dizziness muddled his thoughts already before his eyes were open, and even then he wasn't quite sure that he was really awake. He could not recall what had happened that ended in him waking in this strange environment. It must have been something very bad, Vajra was certain of that much. The inexplicable guilt, heavy in his stomach, was indication enough. Training kicked in naturally after a moment; the first thing he should do is assess the situation. Vajra was in a dark room, the only illumination coming from behind the door, a source some distance away and evidently not meant to help  _him_ see. Vajra relaxed his body and slowed his breathing, hoping no one had seen him open his eyes. He shut them again part way, just in case. He didn't want anyone knowing he was awake yet. The floor he lay on was stone, cold against his cheek. Vajra's armor was still on him, he noticed with some relief, though he'd been stripped of his weapons. He observed that several others must have been in the room with him, some sleeping as he had been, and those who were not were making quiet sounds of distress. The room was about the size of a den, big enough to host a large number of people but nowhere as big as, say, a dining hall. In the dim light, Vajra counted the silhouettes of about twenty or thirty people, hard to tell with his eyes half-closed in the dark. All prisoners.

Deciding he was not in any immediate danger, Vajra sat up. The events leading up to this point were starting to come back to him now. Asura's last expression, a mix of betrayal and apology and fear, flashed in his mind. That explained the guilt. He assumed he was in Arachne's custody, whatever she might need him for, though he was certain she wasn't one of the room's current occupants. But he didn't let himself be fooled for a second that she wasn't watching them somehow.

Vajra would have liked to ask his cellmates some questions, to fill the gaps in his information. Mostly he was curious about what the witch would want with all of them, and how long they had been confined there. But he remained silent, wanting first to judge the situation for himself. Careful not to disturb anyone, Vajra made his way to the door. Running his hands up and down its wooden surface he discovered that it didn't have hinges, so it must open outward. To his surprise, however, there was neither a knob nor a keyhole anywhere. He pressed his weight up onto it, but as expected, it didn't give way. He looked around the room a second time, confirming that there were no other doors or windows. The space between the door and its frame was not even wide enough to get his finger through. Vajra frowned. He really would have preferred to try and escape without drawing attention to himself. 

With no other viable choices, Vajra took a step back and braced his body, then proceeded to kick the door as hard as he could. Some other prisoners shrieked and cursed at him, startled by the loud noise. Hissing in pain, Vajra sank against the wall, nursing his aching foot. The material had felt like wood to the touch of his hand, but was a lot harder whn he struck it. For all his effort, he hadn't even made a chip in the door. He realized belatedly that it was probably reinforced by magic. But, Vajra hoped, it would attract the attention of whoever might be guarding the cell, and then a possibility could present itself. 

He had to fight off a grim smile when he heard the sound of a key turning. The others hushed, like Vajra, curious and fearful. Preparing to run, or fight, he watched carefully as the door was pulled open. Squinting in the sudden brightness, Vajra saw a tall, cloaked figure. After blinking a few times Vajra could see that he was wearing an unsettling, many-eyed mask. 

"Who was it?" The harsh tone implied unpleasant consequences if the question went unanswered. The guard didn't look particularly strong, Vajra appraised, but thought he should nonetheless be wary of anyone serving a witch, especially Arachne.

"I did it," he divulged after a moment, letting the man hear the bold challenge in his voice. Vajra didn't want someone else to be punished in his place, but more than that, being taken out of the room would present him with a better opportunity to flee.

The man turned to Vajra, apparently looking him over. At last he opened the door wide enough for Vajra to pass through. "Come with me," he commanded. Vajra followed him out into the corridor, taking a few steps farther than was strictly necessary, to put some distance between them. He waited, muscles taught, for the guard to turn and close the door. As soon as he was certain the person couldn't see him, Vajra bolted. The world around him blurred as he ran, feet pounding against the hard floor, air scraping in and out of his lungs. His breath stopped short along with his body when something snagged in the collar of his shirt and dragged him back a bit. Coughing, Vajra looked up to see that the masked individual had miraculously caught him.

"Where exactly do you think you're going?" The guard sneered. Vajra thrust his elbow into the cloaked figure's stomach- or where he assumed it to be- and pulled away, but found that the grip on him was unyielding. He kicked and struggled, to no avail. Vajra couldn't help but gape at this slender form with an iron grasp. All he got in return was an impatient grunt before being dragged down the hall in the other direction. 

 

 Arachne didn't bother looking up from a page she was reading when Vajra was tossed down at her feet. "A troublemaker?" She asked, sounding quite bored.

"Yes, my lady." The guard bowed slightly. The witch dismissed him with a wave of her hand, finally glancing at Vajra. He glared at her. Her lips quirked. 

"What's your name?" Vajra was silent. "Your skin is rather dark for this part of the world- where are you from?" Again, indignation fuming inside him, he didn't answer. Arachne sighed, like she had been tasked with entertaining an annoying child. "No matter," she said, "none of that's important anyway. What I really care about is how resilient you are." She noticed Vajra's narrowed eyes and smiled. "Since you're so brave, I think you're the perfect candidate to participate in my experiment." Arachne tilted her head, sweeping her eyes over him, judging. Vajra wondered what she could possibly be thinking about. At length, she spoke, but it did nothing to calm him. "Don't worry, boy, you won't have to do much. Just try to survive." She laughed at Vajra's defiant glower. "Oh, yes. I think I'll know your name by the end of the day." Arachne summoned a couple of guards to escort him out, toward his fate as a witch's guinea pig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I left the more unpleasant part for the next chapter, just to be sure I could publish this in time. I want to update all my works in progress at least once before I run out of time to write. If I manage that, hopefully I'll have what was originally the second half of this chapter out by next week. If not, well. Who knows. Please forgive me~


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